Book 3

1.1. Dionysius, failing of his love for Callirhoe and no longer able to bear his hunger-strike, had resolved to die and was writing his last will, giving instructions for his burial. And in his letters he asked Callirhoe to come to him, even when he was dead. Plangon wished to go in to her master, but the servant, who had been ordered to admit no one, stopped her.

1.2. As they were struggling at the door, Dionysius heard and asked who was making the disturbance. When the servant said it was Plangon, "It is an unseasonable time," he said, "for her to be here"—for he no longer wished even to see a reminder of his desire—"but call her in all the same."

1.3. Opening the doors, she said, "Why are you wasting away, master, distressing yourself as though you had failed? For Callirhoe summons you to the marriage. Put on bright clothes, sacrifice, receive the bride you love." Dionysius was astounded at the unexpected news, and a mist poured over his eyes, and being utterly weak he presented the appearance of death; and Plangon, wailing, made others run together, and through the whole house the master was mourned as though dead.

1.4. Not even Callirhoe heard this without tears; so great was her grief that even she wept for her husband Dionysius. At last and with difficulty he came to himself and said with a feeble voice, "Which of the divinities is deceiving me, wishing to turn me from the road set before me? Did I hear this waking or in a dream? Does Callirhoe wish to be married to me, she who would not even be seen?"

1.5. Plangon, standing by, said, "Stop torturing yourself in vain and disbelieving your own good fortune; for I am not deceiving my master, but Callirhoe sent me as an ambassador about the marriage." "Be an ambassador, then," said Dionysius, "and tell me her very words.

1.6. Take away nothing and add nothing, but remember exactly." "'I,'" she said, "'being of the first family in Sicily, have been unfortunate, but I still keep my pride. Of my country and my parents I am deprived; only my noble birth I have not lost. If, then, Dionysius wishes to have me as a concubine and to enjoy his own desire, I will hang myself rather than surrender my body to a slave's outrage; but if as his lawful wife according to the laws, then I too wish to become a mother, so that the line of Hermocrates may have a successor.

1.7. Let Dionysius deliberate about this, not alone nor hastily, but with friends and kinsmen, so that no one afterward may say to him, "Will you rear children by the slave you bought and disgrace your house?"

1.8. If he does not wish to become a father, let him not be a husband either.'" These words inflamed Dionysius the more, and he took some light hope, thinking himself loved in return; and stretching out his hands to heaven he said, "If only I might see, Zeus and Helios, a child by Callirhoe! Then I shall seem more blessed than the great King. Let us go to her; lead me, my Plangon, who love your master."

2.1. Running up to the upper rooms, he first started to fall at Callirhoe's knees, but checked himself and, sitting down steadily, said, "I have come to thank you, woman, for my own salvation; for against your will I was not going to force you,

2.2. but if I failed I had resolved to die. You have brought me back to life. And while I owe you the greatest gratitude, yet I have some complaint too; for you disbelieved that I would have you as a lawful wife, for the begetting of children according to Greek law. For if I were not in love, I would not have prayed to win such a marriage. But you, it seems, have condemned me of madness, if I should think the well-born woman a slave and unworthy of my own son, the grandson of Hermocrates.

2.3. 'Deliberate,' you say. I have deliberated. You fear my friends, dearest of all. And who will dare to say that the child born of me is unworthy, having a grandfather greater than his father?" Saying this and weeping at the same time, he came near her; and she, blushing, kissed him quietly and said, "I trust you, Dionysius, but I distrust my own fortune; for before now, because of it, I fell from greater blessings.

2.4. I am afraid it has not yet been reconciled to me. You, then, though you are good and just, make the gods your witnesses—not for your own sake, but for the sake of the citizens and your kinsmen—so that no one may be able, with worse intent, to give any counsel against me, knowing that you have sworn. A woman alone and a stranger

2.5. is easily despised." "What oaths of the gods," he said, "do you wish? For I am ready to swear, if it were possible, climbing up to heaven and laying hold of Zeus himself." "Swear to me," she said, "by the sea that brought me to you, and by Aphrodite who showed me to you, and by Love who led me as a bride." This pleased him, and it was quickly done.

2.6. So it became a love-affair; but he was eager and would allow no delay to the marriage, for the power of desire is hard to keep in check. Yet Dionysius, an educated man, though caught in a storm and his soul plunged beneath it, forced himself nevertheless to lift his head as from the third wave of his passion.

2.7. And so at this time too he stopped at such reflections as these: "I am about to marry in a lonely place, as though truly a slave bought with silver. I am not so ungrateful as not to celebrate the wedding of Callirhoe. In this first I must honor the woman. And it brings me safety for the future too; for of all things rumor is the swiftest; it goes off through the air, having unhindered roads; through it nothing strange can escape notice; already it is running, carrying the new story to Sicily, 'Callirhoe lives, and tomb-robbers, having dug through the tomb, stole her, and

2.8. in Miletus she has been sold.' Soon the triremes of the Syracusans will sail in, and Hermocrates the general demanding back his daughter. What am I to say? 'Theron sold her to me.' But where is Theron? And even if I am believed to speak the truth, I am the harborer of a pirate. Practice your defense, Dionysius. Perhaps you will plead it before the great King. It is best, then, to say, 'I heard, I know not how, of a free woman who had come to town; she gave herself out for sale openly in the city, and I married her in lawful fashion.'

2.9. In this way I shall the better persuade her father too that I am not unworthy of the marriage. Endure, my soul, a brief term, so that for the longer time you may enjoy a secure pleasure. I shall be stronger for the trial, using the law of a husband, not of a master."

2.10. So it seemed good, and calling Leonas he said, "Go to the city and prepare magnificently for the wedding. Let herds be driven in; let grain and wine be brought by land and sea; for I have resolved to feast the city in public."

2.11. Having arranged everything carefully, on the next day he made the journey by carriage, but ordered Callirhoe—for he did not yet wish to show her to many—to be conveyed about evening by boat as far as the house, which was on the very harbor called Docimus; and he put the care of her in Plangon's hands.

2.12. So Callirhoe, when she was about to leave the country, first prayed to Aphrodite, and entering the temple and putting everyone out, said this to the goddess: "Mistress Aphrodite, am I to blame you justly, or to thank you? You joined me, a maiden, to Chaereas, and now after him you lead me as a bride to another.

2.13. I would not have been persuaded to swear by you and your son, had not this infant betrayed me," and she showed her belly. "I beseech you," she said, "not on my own behalf, but on his. Grant that my device may go unnoticed. Since he does not have his true father, let him pass for a child of Dionysius;

2.14. for when he is grown he will find that other father too." As she walked from the precinct to the sea, the sailors were seized with dread when they saw her, as though Aphrodite herself were coming to embark, and they rushed all together to worship her; and by the eagerness of the rowers the ship sailed into the harbor faster than words could tell. And at dawn the whole city was garlanded.

2.15. Each man sacrificed before his own house, and not in the temples alone. There was much talk as to who the bride was; and the more common sort of the multitude were persuaded, because of her beauty and because the woman was unknown, that a Nereid had come up from the sea, or that a goddess was present from the estates of Dionysius;

2.16. for this is what the sailors said. There was one desire in all, to behold Callirhoe, and the crowd gathered about the temple of Concord, where it was the custom for bridegrooms to receive their brides. Then for the first time since the tomb she adorned herself; for having once resolved to marry, she counted her beauty her country and her family. When she had put on Milesian dress and a bridal garland,

2.17. she looked out at the crowd. All then cried out, "Aphrodite is marrying!" They spread purple cloths beneath her, and roses and violets, and sprinkled perfume as she walked; not a child or an old man was left in the houses, nor even in the very harbors; the crowd, crowded for room, went up even onto the rooftops. But on this day too that malicious spirit again brought his envious displeasure; how, I will tell a little later. But first I wish to relate what happened in Syracuse at the same time.

3.1. The tomb-robbers had closed up the tomb carelessly, in their haste during the night; and Chaereas, watching for the very break of dawn, came to the tomb on the pretext of bringing garlands and libations, but in truth intending to make away with himself; for he could not endure to be parted from Callirhoe, and thought death the only physician of his grief. Coming there, he found the stones moved and the entrance plain to see.

3.2. Seeing this, he was astounded and held fast by a terrible perplexity over what had happened; and a swift rumor announced the strange thing to the Syracusans. So all ran together to the tomb, but no one dared to go inside before Hermocrates ordered it.

3.3. The man sent in reported everything exactly. It seemed incredible that not even the corpse was lying there. Then Chaereas himself asked, out of a longing to see Callirhoe again even dead; but searching the tomb he could find nothing.

3.4. Many went in after him out of disbelief; and helplessness seized them all, and one, standing there, said, "The grave-offerings have been plundered—the work of tomb-robbers; but where is the corpse?" Many and various reports held the crowd. And Chaereas, looking up to heaven and stretching out his hands, said, "Which of the gods, then, has become my rival and carried off Callirhoe, and now keeps her with him against her will, but forced by a stronger destiny?

3.5. For this reason she died suddenly too, that she might not understand. So Dionysus took Ariadne from Theseus, and Zeus took Semele. For I did not know that I had a goddess for a wife and that she was greater than belongs to our station. But she ought not to have departed from among men so quickly, nor on such a pretext.

3.6. Thetis was a goddess, yet she remained with Peleus, and he had a son by her; but I have been abandoned at the very height of love. What is to become of me? What shall I do, unfortunate? Shall I make away with myself? And with whom shall I be buried? For this was my one hope in my calamity: if I have not kept a common chamber with Callirhoe, I shall find a common tomb with her.

3.7. I make my defense to you, mistress, for my own life. You compel me to live; for I will seek you over land and sea, and, if I can, climb up into the very air. This I beg of you, my wife: do not flee from me." At this the crowd broke into lamentation, and all began to mourn for Callirhoe as for one just dead.

3.8. Triremes were at once launched, and many divided the search among them; for Hermocrates himself searched Sicily, and Chaereas Libya; some were sent off to Italy, and others were ordered to cross the Ionian Sea. But human help was altogether weak, and fortune brought the truth to light, without which no work is complete; and one may learn this from what happened.

3.9. For the tomb-robbers, having sold their cargo that was hard to dispose of, the woman, left Miletus and made their voyage toward Crete, hearing it was a prosperous and large island, on which they hoped the sale of their goods would be easy.

3.10. But a violent wind, taking them, drove them off into the Ionian Sea, and there they wandered on a deserted sea. Thunder and lightning and a long night fell upon the impious men, providence showing that before, for Callirhoe's sake, they had sailed prosperously. Each time they came near death, the god did not quickly release them from fear,

3.11. making the shipwreck long for them. So the land would not receive the impious men, and being at sea a long time they came to be in want of necessities, especially of drink, and their unjust wealth did them no good, but they were dying of thirst amid gold. Slowly, then, they repented of what they had dared, when it was no use, blaming one another.

3.12. So all the rest were dying of thirst, but Theron even at that time was a scoundrel; for stealing some of the drink, he robbed his fellow-robbers too. He thought he had done something clever, but it was really the work of providence, keeping the man for torture and the cross.

3.13. For the trireme carrying Chaereas fell in with the drifting cutter, and at first sheered off from it as from a pirate ship. But when it appeared to be without a helmsman, carried at random against the blows of the waves, one of the men on the trireme cried out, "It has no crew aboard; let us not be afraid, but go near and examine the strange thing."

3.14. This pleased the helmsman; for Chaereas was weeping in the hold of the ship, his face covered. When they came near, at first they called to those inside; but when no one answered, one went up from the trireme and saw nothing but gold and corpses. He reported it to the sailors; they rejoiced, thinking themselves fortunate, as having found a treasure at sea.

3.15. When there was an uproar, Chaereas asked the reason. Learning of it, he too wished to behold the strange sight. Recognizing the grave-offerings, he tore his clothes and cried out loud and far-resounding, "Alas, Callirhoe! These are yours. This garland is the one I placed on you; this your father gave you, this your mother; this is your bridal dress. The ship has become your tomb.

3.16. But your things I see; where are you? Only the corpse is missing from the grave-offerings." Hearing this, Theron lay like the corpses, for he was half-dead. He deliberated much whether to utter no sound at all or to move; for what was to come was not unforeseen by him; but man is by nature fond of life, and even in the uttermost calamities does not despair of a change for the better, the god who created us having sown this device in all, so that they should not flee a wretched life.

3.17. Held fast, then, by thirst, this was the first sound he uttered: "Drink." When it was brought to him and he received every care, Chaereas, sitting beside him, asked, "Who are you? Where are you sailing? Where did these things come from? And what have you done with their mistress?" Theron, scoundrel that he was, kept his wits about him and said, "I am a Cretan, sailing to Ionia;

3.18. I am seeking a brother of mine who is in the army. I was left behind by those on my ship in Cephallenia; and since their departure was sudden, I embarked from there on this cutter, which was sailing past at a good time. We were driven by extraordinary winds into this sea, then, when a long calm came on, all perished of thirst, and I alone was saved by my own piety." Hearing this, Chaereas ordered the cutter to be lashed to the trireme until they should sail into the harbors of Syracuse.

4.1. Rumor had gone ahead—being by nature swift, and at that time hastening the more to announce many things strange and new. So all ran together to the sea, and there were mingled feelings at once of weeping, wonder, inquiry, and disbelief; for the strange story astounded them.

4.2. When the mother saw her daughter's grave-offerings, she wailed aloud, "I recognize everything; you alone, my child, are missing. O strange tomb-robbers, who kept the clothes and the gold but stole only my daughter!" The shores and harbors resounded with the women beating their breasts, and they filled land and sea with lamentation.

4.3. But Hermocrates, a general and a man experienced in affairs, said, "We must not seek here, but make a more lawful inquiry. Let us go to the assembly. Who knows whether there may be need of judges too?"

4.4. No sooner was the word spoken than the theater was full. The women too attended that assembly. The people sat in suspense, and Chaereas came in first, in black, pale, squalid, just as he had followed his wife to the tomb; and he would not go up onto the platform, but standing somewhere below, at first he wept for a long while and, wishing to speak, could not; and the crowd shouted, "Take courage and speak."

4.5. So at last, looking up, he said, "The present moment was not one for public speaking but for mourning; but I both speak and live by necessity, until I discover who took Callirhoe away. For this reason I sailed from here, and I do not know whether I have made the voyage fortunate or unfortunate.

4.6. For I saw a ship in fair weather drifting, full of its own storm and sinking in a calm. Wondering, we went near. I thought I was seeing the tomb of my poor wife, having all her things, except her. There was a multitude of corpses, but all strangers, and this one among them was found half-dead. This man I revived with every care and have kept for you."

4.7. Meanwhile public servants were leading Theron, bound, into the theater with a procession befitting him; for there followed him a wheel, a rack, fire, and whips, providence rendering him the prizes of his contests.

4.8. When he stood in the middle, one of the magistrates examined him. "Who are you?" "Demetrius." "Tell me, from where?" "A Cretan." "What do you know? Speak." "Sailing to Ionia to my brother, I was left behind by my ship, then embarked on a cutter that was sailing past. At the time I supposed they were merchants, but now tomb-robbers.

4.9. Being at sea a long time, all the rest perished for want of drink, and I alone was saved because I have done nothing wicked in my life. Do not you, then, men of Syracuse, a people famed for kindness, become to me wilder than thirst and the sea."

4.10. As he spoke piteously, pity came over the multitude, and he might soon have persuaded them, so as even to obtain provisions for his journey, had not some avenging spirit of Callirhoe begrudged him his unjust persuasion; for it was going to be the most monstrous of all things, that the Syracusans should be persuaded that the only one saved through impiety had been saved through piety—so that he might be the more punished.

4.11. Now there sat among the crowd a fisherman who recognized him and said quietly to those seated near him, "I saw this man before, prowling about our harbor." Quickly the word spread to more, and someone cried out, "He is lying." So the whole people turned about,

4.12. and the magistrates ordered the man who had first spoken to come down; and when Theron denied it, the fisherman was the more believed. They at once called for torturers, and whips were brought to the impious man; and though burned and cut, he held out a long while and almost overcame the tortures.

4.13. But great is each man's conscience, and the truth is all-powerful; for at last and slowly, but still, Theron confessed. He began, then, to tell his tale: "Seeing wealth being buried, I gathered robbers.

4.14. We opened the tomb; we found the dead woman alive; we plundered everything and put it on the cutter; sailing to Miletus we sold only the woman, but the rest we were carrying to Crete; and being driven into the Ionian Sea by the winds, what we suffered you too have seen." Telling everything, he kept silent only about the name of the buyer.

4.15. When these things were said, joy and grief came over all—joy that Callirhoe lived, grief that she had been sold. So a vote of death was passed against Theron, but Chaereas begged that the man should not yet die, "so that," he said, "he may go and reveal to me the buyers. Consider my necessity: I am pleading for the man who sold my wife."

4.16. This Hermocrates prevented from happening, saying, "It is better to make the search more laborious than that the laws be undone. I beg you, men of Syracuse, remembering my generalship and my trophies, to repay me the favor in the matter of my daughter. Send an embassy on her behalf;

4.17. let us recover the free woman." While he was still speaking, the people cried out, "Let us all sail," and from the council the greater part volunteered. But Hermocrates said, "I thank you all for the honor, but two ambassadors from the people and two from the council are enough; and Chaereas shall sail as the fifth."

4.18. This was resolved and ratified, and on these terms he dissolved the assembly. As Theron was led away, a great part of the crowd followed. He was impaled before Callirhoe's tomb, and from the cross he looked upon that sea over which he had carried captive the daughter of Hermocrates, whom not even the Athenians had captured.

5.1. To all the rest it seemed best to wait for the season of sailing and to put out when spring shone forth; for it was still winter, and it seemed altogether impossible to cross the Ionian Sea. But Chaereas was in haste, ready, for love's sake, to yoke a raft and let himself be carried out to the open sea by the winds.

5.2. So the ambassadors too were unwilling to delay, out of respect both for him and especially for Hermocrates, and they prepared to sail. The Syracusans sent out the expedition at public expense, so that this too might add to the dignity of the embassy.

5.3. So they launched that admiral's trireme, which still had the tokens of victory. When the appointed day for putting out came, the multitude ran together to the harbor, not men only, but women and children too, and there were together prayers, tears, groans, comfort,

5.4. fear, courage, despair, hope. Ariston, the father of Chaereas, very old and worn out by sickness, clung to his son's neck and, hanging upon him, said weeping, "To whom do you leave me, my child, a half-dead old man? For that I shall see you no more is plain.

5.5. Wait even a few days, that I may die in your arms; bury me and then go." And his mother, taking hold of his knees, said, "I beg you, my child, do not leave me here desolate, but cast me into the trireme as a light burden; but if I am heavy and superfluous, throw me into the sea

5.6. over which you sail." Saying this she tore her breast and, holding out her breasts, said, "My child,

have respect for these and pity me, me, if ever I held out to you the breast that lulls care.

Chaereas was broken down at his parents' entreaties and threw himself from the ship into the sea, wishing to die, that he might escape one of two things, either not seeking Callirhoe or grieving his parents; but the sailors quickly threw out and barely lifted him up.

5.7. Then Hermocrates dispersed the crowd and ordered the helmsman to put out at last. And something else happened too, a deed of friendship not ignoble. For Polycharmus, the companion of Chaereas, did not appear at the moment among them, but had said to his parents, "Chaereas is my friend—a friend indeed—yet not so far that I should share his uttermost dangers with him.

5.8. Therefore, until he sails off, I will keep out of the way." But when the ship had pushed off from land, he saluted them from the stern, so that they could no longer hold him back.

5.9. Going out of the harbor and looking out to the open sea, Chaereas said, "Bring me, sea, by the same course over which you brought Callirhoe. I pray you, Poseidon, either bring her too back with us, or do not bring me here without her. For if I cannot recover my wife, I wish at least to be a slave with her."

6.1. A favorable wind took the trireme, and it ran as though on the track of the cutter. In an equal number of days they came to Ionia and anchored on the same shore, in the estates of Dionysius.

6.2. So the rest, wearied, went ashore and hurried about their own refreshment, pitching tents and preparing a feast; but Chaereas, walking about with Polycharmus, said, "How can we now find Callirhoe? Above all I am afraid that Theron deceived us and that the poor woman is dead. But even if she has truly been sold, who knows where?

6.3. For Asia is large." Meanwhile, wandering, they came upon the temple of Aphrodite. It seemed good to them, then, to worship the goddess, and Chaereas, running to her knees, said, "You, mistress, first showed me Callirhoe at your festival; give her back to me now too, whom you granted me." And meanwhile, looking up, he saw beside the goddess a golden image of Callirhoe, a dedication of Dionysius.

And his knees and his heart gave way.

6.4. He fell down, dizzy with darkness; and the temple-keeper, seeing him, brought water, and reviving the man said, "Take courage, child; the goddess has astounded many others; for she is manifest and shows herself plainly. But this is a sign of some great good. Do you see the golden image? She was a slave, but Aphrodite has made her mistress of us all."

6.5. "And who is she?" said Chaereas. "The mistress of these estates, my child, the wife of Dionysius, the first of the Ionians." Hearing this, Polycharmus, being himself of sound mind, allowed Chaereas to say no more, but supporting him led him away from there, not wishing them to be discovered, who they were, before they had deliberated everything well and arranged it together.

6.6. Chaereas, while the temple-keeper was present, said nothing, but kept silent with self-control, except that his tears burst out of their own accord; and going far off, he threw himself alone upon the ground and said, "O kindly sea, why did you save me? Was it that, after a fair voyage, I should see Callirhoe the wife of another? I did not expect this ever to happen, not even if Chaereas were dead.

6.7. What shall I do, unhappy man? For I hoped to recover you from a master, and trusted that with the ransom I should persuade the buyer; but now I have found you wealthy, perhaps even a queen. How much more fortunate I would have been had I found you poor! Shall I go to Dionysius and say, 'Give me back my wife'? But who says that to a man who has married her?

6.8. And even if I meet you, I cannot come near you, nor even—the most common thing—greet you as a fellow-citizen. Perhaps I shall be in danger of perishing as the adulterer of my own wife." As he lamented thus, Polycharmus comforted him.

7.1. Meanwhile Phocas, the steward of Dionysius, having beheld a warship's trireme, was not without fear; and coaxing one of the sailors, he learned from him the truth—who they were, where from, and on whose account they sailed. He understood, then, that this trireme was bringing a great calamity to Dionysius, and that he would not live if Callirhoe were torn from him.

7.2. As one devoted to his master, wishing to forestall the danger and to quench a war great indeed, but not a public one, only of the house of Dionysius alone, for this reason he rode off to a fort of the barbarians and announced that an enemy trireme lay hidden, lurking perhaps for reconnaissance, perhaps for piracy, and that it was to the interest of the King's affairs that it should be seized before it did harm.

7.3. He persuaded the barbarians and brought them in formation. Falling upon the ship at midnight and casting in fire, they burned the trireme, and those they took alive they bound and led up to the fort. When the captives were divided, Chaereas and Polycharmus begged to be sold to one master. And the man who took them sold them into Caria. There, dragging heavy fetters, they worked on the estate of Mithridates.

7.4. To Callirhoe in a dream appeared Chaereas, bound and wishing to come to her, but unable; and she wailed loud and far-resounding in her sleep, "Chaereas, come here." Then for the first time Dionysius heard the name of Chaereas. When the woman was disturbed, he asked, "Who is it you were calling?" Her tears betrayed her, and she could not restrain her grief, but gave her feeling free rein.

7.5. "An unfortunate man," she said, "my husband from my maidenhood, not happy even in dreams; for I saw him bound. But you, poor man, have died seeking me—for your bonds signify your death—while I live and luxuriate, lying on a gilded couch with another man. Yet before long I shall come to you.

7.6. If even living we did not enjoy each other, dead we shall have each other." Hearing these words, Dionysius took various views: for jealousy laid hold of him, because she loved Chaereas even dead, and fear laid hold of him too, lest she should kill herself; yet he took courage, because the first husband seemed to the woman to be dead—for she would not, he thought, leave Dionysius, Chaereas being no longer alive.

7.7. He comforted the woman, then, as best he could, and for many days kept watch, lest she do herself some harm. But her grief was drawn off by the hope that perhaps he was alive and that her dream was false; and still more by her pregnancy; for in the seventh month after the wedding she bore a son, in appearance from Dionysius, but in truth from Chaereas. The city kept a very great festival, and embassies came from everywhere, the Milesians rejoicing with him that the line of Dionysius was increasing. And he, in his joy, yielded everything to his wife and proclaimed her mistress of the house. He filled the temples with dedications and feasted the whole city with sacrifices.

8.1. Callirhoe, anxious lest her secret be betrayed, asked that Plangon be set free—the only one who shared her secret, that she had come to Dionysius pregnant—so that she might have her loyalty secured not only by goodwill but by fortune too. "Gladly," said Dionysius, "do I reward Plangon for her service in love.

8.2. But we should do wrong if we honored the maidservant and did not render gratitude to Aphrodite, with whom we first saw each other." "I too," said Callirhoe, "wish this rather than you; for I owe her a greater gratitude. Now, then, I am still recovering from childbirth, but after waiting a few days we shall go more safely to the country."

8.3. She quickly recovered from the birth and became stronger and taller, no longer a girl, but having taken on the bloom of a woman. When they came to the country, Phocas prepared magnificent sacrifices; for a crowd had followed from the city. Beginning the hecatomb, Dionysius said, "Mistress Aphrodite, you are the cause of all my blessings.

8.4. From you I have Callirhoe, from you my son, and I am a husband and a father because of you. Callirhoe was enough for me, sweeter to me than country and parents, but I love the child because he has made the mother more securely mine. I have him as a pledge of her goodwill toward me. I beseech you, mistress, keep Callirhoe safe for me, and for Callirhoe

8.5. her son." The crowd standing around joined in the acclamation, and some with roses, some with violets, some with whole garlands strewed leaves upon them, so that the precinct was filled with flowers. Dionysius spoke his prayer in the hearing of all, but Callirhoe wished to speak to Aphrodite alone.

8.6. First she placed her son in her own arms, and there was seen a most beautiful sight, such as no painter has painted nor sculptor sculpted nor poet told of until now; for none of them has represented Artemis or Athena carrying an infant in her arms. Dionysius wept for pleasure as he looked, and quietly worshipped Nemesis; and ordering Plangon alone to remain, she sent the rest on ahead to the villa.

8.7. When they had gone, standing near Aphrodite and lifting the infant in her hands, she said, "For him, mistress, I acknowledge gratitude to you; for myself I do not know. Then I would have acknowledged gratitude for myself too, had you kept Chaereas for me. Yet you have given me an image of my dearest husband, and you have not taken Chaereas from me altogether.

8.8. Grant, then, that my son may become more fortunate than his parents and like his grandfather; may he too sail on an admiral's trireme, and may someone say, when he is fighting at sea, 'The grandson is greater than Hermocrates.' For his grandfather too will rejoice to have a successor of his valor, and we, his parents, shall rejoice even when dead.

8.9. I beseech you, mistress, be reconciled to me henceforth; for I have been unfortunate enough. I have died, I have come back to life, I have been robbed, I have fled, I have been sold, I have been a slave; and I count my second marriage still heavier than these. But one favor in return for all I ask of you, and through you of the other gods: keep my orphan safe." While she still wished to speak, her tears stopped her.

9.1. After a little while she called the priestess; and the old woman, answering, said, "Why do you weep, my child, in the midst of such blessings? For already strangers worship you as a goddess too. The other day two handsome young men came here, sailing past; and one of them, beholding your image, all but breathed his last. So manifest has Aphrodite made you."

9.2. This struck Callirhoe's heart, and as though gone mad, fixing her eyes, she cried out, "Who were the strangers? Where were they sailing from? What did they tell you?" The old woman, frightened, at first stood speechless, but at last said, "I only saw them; I heard nothing." "What did they look like?

9.3. Recall their appearance." The old woman described it, not exactly, but Callirhoe nevertheless suspected the truth; for what each person wishes, that he believes. Looking toward Plangon she said, "It is possible that the unhappy Chaereas, wandering, is here. What, then, has happened? Let us seek him, but in silence."

9.4. So coming to Dionysius she said only this, what she had heard from the priestess; for she knew that love is by nature curious, and that he would of his own accord inquire about what had happened. And so it came about. For Dionysius, on learning of it, was at once filled with jealousy, and was far from suspecting Chaereas, but feared that some adulterous plot was lurking about the country; for the beauty of his wife persuaded him to suspect everything and to fear.

9.5. And he feared not only plots from men, but expected too that perhaps a god might come down from heaven against him as a rival. So calling Phocas he questioned him closely: "Who are the young men and from where? Are they rich and handsome? And why did they worship my Aphrodite? Who told them of her?

9.6. Who allowed it?" But Phocas concealed the truth, not from fear of Dionysius, but knowing that Callirhoe would destroy both him and his family, if she learned of what had happened. So when he denied that any had come, Dionysius, not knowing the reason, suspected that some heavier plot was being set up against him.

9.7. Enraged, then, he demanded whips and the rack for Phocas, and called together not only him but all those on the estates, convinced that he was searching out adultery. Perceiving into what danger he had come, whether speaking or keeping silent, Phocas said, "To you, master,

9.8. I will tell the truth alone." So Dionysius sent everyone away and said, "See, we are alone. Lie no more; tell the truth, even if it is bad." "There is nothing bad, master," he said, "for I bring you tidings of great blessings; and if the first of them are gloomier, do not for that be at all anxious or grieved, but wait until you hear everything;

9.9. for it has a good ending." So Dionysius, raised to suspense by the announcement and hanging upon the hearing, said, "Do not delay, but tell it now." Then he began: "A trireme has sailed in here from Sicily, with ambassadors of the Syracusans demanding Callirhoe back from you."

9.10. Dionysius almost died when he heard it, and night poured over his eyes; for he took the impression that Chaereas was standing over him and tearing Callirhoe away. So he lay there, presenting the look and color of a corpse, and Phocas was in perplexity, unwilling to call anyone, lest there be a witness of the secrets; but slowly and little by little he himself revived his master, saying, "Take courage; Chaereas is dead; the ship is destroyed; there is no longer any fear." These words put life into Dionysius,

9.11. and little by little coming to himself again he inquired closely about everything, and Phocas told of the sailor who had informed him, where the trireme was from and on whose account they sailed and who were the men present, his own stratagem against the barbarians, the night, the fire, the shipwreck, the slaughter, the bonds. So, as a cloud or darkness was lifted from his soul, Dionysius embraced Phocas and said, "You are my benefactor, you a true guardian and most faithful in secrets.

9.12. Through you I have Callirhoe and my son. I would not have ordered you to kill Chaereas, but since you have done it I do not blame you; for the wrong was done out of love for your master. This one thing only you did carelessly: you did not inquire whether Chaereas is among the dead or among the bound. You ought to have sought the corpse; for he too would have had a burial, and I would have had more secure assurance. But I cannot now enjoy my good fortune free from care, because of the bound men; for we do not even know this, where any of them has been sold."

10.1. Ordering Phocas to relate the rest of what had happened openly, but to keep silent on these two things, his own stratagem and that some of those from the trireme were still alive, Dionysius came to Callirhoe gloomy; then he gathered together the country people, primed beforehand, so that the woman, on learning what had happened, might now take a more settled despair concerning Chaereas.

10.2. So they came and told—and all knew it—that "barbarian pirates from somewhere, running down by night, burned a Greek trireme that had anchored the day before off the shore; and by day we saw water mingled with blood and

10.3. corpses carried by the waves." When the woman heard this, she tore her clothes, and beating her eyes and cheeks she ran up to the room into which she had first come when sold. Dionysius gave her grief free rein, fearing he might become tiresome if he were present at the wrong time. So he ordered all to depart, and Plangon alone to attend her, lest she do herself some harm.

10.4. Callirhoe, finding quiet, sat down on the ground, and pouring dust on her head and tearing her hair, began such laments as these: "I prayed to die before you or with you, Chaereas; but now it is at all events necessary for me to die after you; for what hope is still left to keep me in life?

10.5. Unfortunate until now, I used to reason, 'I shall see Chaereas one day and tell him how much I have suffered for his sake; this will make me dearer to him. With how much joy will he be filled when he sees his son!' All this has become useless to me, and the child too is now superfluous; for an orphan has been added to my misfortunes.

10.6. Unjust Aphrodite, you alone saw Chaereas, but did not show him to me when he came; you handed his beautiful body into the hands of pirates; you did not pity the man who sailed for your sake. To such a goddess who would pray—you who killed your own suppliant?

10.7. You did not help him on that fearful night, when you saw a handsome youth, a lover, murdered near you; you took from me my contemporary, my fellow-citizen, my lover, my beloved, my bridegroom.

10.8. Give me back at least his corpse. I grant that we were born the most unfortunate of all; but how did the trireme do wrong, that barbarians should burn it—the one not even the Athenians mastered? Now the parents of us both sit by the sea, awaiting our homecoming, and whenever any ship is seen far off, they say, 'Chaereas comes, bringing Callirhoe'; they make ready for us the bridal bed, and a chamber is adorned for those who have not even a tomb of their own. O foul sea, you both brought Chaereas to Miletus to be murdered and me to be sold!"